Temptation
by Karalena Cullen
Summary: I'm afraid to touch you.  I'm afraid that one tiny, innocent little touch will not be enough.


Temptation

By: karacullen23

Rated: NC-17

WARNING: Slash, as in two men having sexual relations. If this isn't your cuppa' tea, don't read.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, nor do I get paid for the crap that I write.

I'm afraid to touch you. I'm afraid that one tiny, innocent little touch will not be enough. I wouldn't be able to control my hands. One touch to your elbow would lead to a lingering caress. That caress would lead to trembling fingers exploring up your arm, over your bicep. Kissing my fingers to your throat, your cheeks, your lips. My lips would tremble to taste you. What would you taste like? I imagine you taste delicious. Would you like the way I taste, or would my flavor be too bitter to your virginal pallet?

Would a kiss be sufficient? No, definitely not. I'd probably proceed to launch myself clumsily at you and ravage you until you're panting for breath and lying crumpled on the floor unable to so much as twitch.

So I won't touch you.

I don't know what it is about you. You're eyes? I can't stop thinking about you. You're face is a permanent image in my mind. Those eyes so bright and innocent, yet full of secrets. Your laugh makes me smile. The way you make me feel. Desirable, beautiful, intelligent. You make me feel wanted.

I hold my breath when you stride through the room. Will you notice me? Will you acknowledge me? You hesitate, feeling me near. You're as disturbed by this connection as I am. But you can't resist can you? A few moments stretched into an eternity in anticipation. Have you been waiting all this time just to see me again? I know I have been waiting just to see your face, hear your voice, feel you near.

There's a new tension between us that wasn't there before. An awkward, sexual anticipatory electricity so strong I can smell it in the air. I can feel it in my bowels. Chitchat, flirt, and avoid the thickness between us, that is, until we're alone.

A quiet, lonely place that is the illusion of solitude. The random passerby, a random cacophony of friends and strangers, but we remain intent on one another and everyone and everything else fades into the background. In this moment it can no longer be ignored. It has to be addressed or this, whatever "this" is could potentially wreak havoc and irrevocably change our relationship forever.

"You're going to get me into trouble?" My voice is quiet and breathless. These words are new, very real and very confusing. We generalize, trying to talk ourselves out of our urges.

A proposition is made not with words but with a jest. The implications are serious as death. Testing the waters. Wanting. Tempted and willing. Mutually yet reluctantly we are aware of the foul demon known as cowardice slinking between us and we back down…for now.

What if you had come with me?

Excitement and a sick immoral fluttering. The pungent smell of chlorine and sexual heat. Soft, urgent lips. Hot, hungry hands, exploring. The not unpleasant mixture of fear and excitement. The reality of potential exposure. Nervous, but all the more exciting. Panting breath and the wet sounds of our hungry kisses amplified and echoing. Surreal.

Need more?

Sweet Lord, yes.

Clothing removed and discarded, piece b piece in an agonizing frenzy. Flesh to flesh.

Still not enough?

Bruising, hungry kisses. Teeth sinking into pliant skin. The mealy musk as the final bits of clothing come off. As Eve sinks her teeth into the apple of sodom. The point of no return.

Tight, sweaty palms and trembling, adroit fingers. I'm hard and throbbing inside and out.

Overtaken yet?

Flushed cheek pressed up against cool white tile. Moist breath raising goose flesh on the back of my neck. Succulent ass cradled against grinding, thrusting hips. Hair pulled. Nails scraped over delicate erogenous zones. Teeth graze and hips thrust.

Up against the wall and loving every single precious moment. Taken. Wild, urgent and like a starving animal finally feasting. Equally frenzied. Where would we go from there?

After having unleashed our baser beings, what's to become of us after? Could we rein our appetites back in? Could we keep it contained and hidden from the world? Such paramount urges, thoughts and feelings would be impossible to keep hushed. Or is it possible?

The fantasy torments me day and night. I want you. I need you. I starve for you.

In the meantime, I will keep my hands to myself. Shove them deep within the confines of my trouser pockets. I will watch you and yearn. I will watch you and wait. I can't touch you. I shouldn't touch you…first. But if you were to initiate physical contact, I doubt I'd have the will power to stop you. I definitely would have no desire to stop you.

So perhaps we should both keep our hands to ourselves.


End file.
